


The Migratory Flight of a Flightless Bird....or why the answer should always include Penguins

by ncruuk



Series: Behind the Beret - being Bernie [10]
Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 13:37:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11670192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncruuk/pseuds/ncruuk
Summary: The time has come for Major Wolfe to come to attention and take a decision about her future... a future Bernie's already worked out really needs to have Alex in it to be a future worth living...which just leaves one question: where in the world is there an opportunity for a Major and her anaesthetist to have their happy ever after?[If you've already read my earlier story 'In the wee small hours of the morning' then you already know most of the answer.... please do not read without reading at the minimum the series summary page so you know how this universe does and doesn't mesh with what's been seen on screen...]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [travellinggiraffe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/travellinggiraffe/gifts).



> This story was always intended to be written at some point, with the 'answer' already known from the very first story I ever wrote for Bernie and Alex as I really am incapable of writing for characters without giving them a happy ever after... I also, not that long after I'd started writing my 6th story for Bernie and Alex, met a friend in the fandom who, without ever knowing it, determined when this particular chapter in Bernie and Alex's story would be written and posted.  
> At the time of posting, it's just gone 1am on August 1st...which is quite a day for lots of people all over the place, for all manner of reasons, but there's one reason that matters to me and this story.... safe travels TG... enjoy the warmth down under...enjoy your new adventure!
> 
> [with apologies for any extra hideous typos - I'll be nipping back to tidy them up shortly...]
> 
> Just to be clear - the idea of the medical services review project and all the possible options for Bernie to consider are completely fictitious and my own invention for the purposes of (hopefully) plausible story telling... anything even remotely aligning with either reality or whatever the writers at Holby have in mind for the demise of Bernie Wolfe (coincidentally also starting to be revealed on this day of August 1st) is entirely accidental.... to reuse a phrase I once had to use with monotonous regularity... they're not mine, not for profit, just some daydreaming I wrote down... and that hopefully, a few others might enjoy...

“Can I help you?” Fletch asked, coming up behind the man that was standing in front of the nurses’ station on AAU - he didn’t look like a patient.

 

“I’m looking for Bernie Wolfe.”  Swallowing, he reached up and adjusted his tie, making Fletch wonder why the bloke was nervous.

 

“And you are?”  Suspicious, Fletch moved around to the other side of the counter so he could look at the computer and get a further opportunity to size up this visitor.

 

“Peter Parker.”  Fletch blinked, willing himself not to make any comment about superheroes or comic books.  Unfortunately, that meant he just looked at the guy and said nothing.  “Yes, I know.  Is Bernie around?”  Trying to get the conversation back on track, the visitor looked around AAU, trying to spot her.

 

“Ms Wolfe is currently in theatre…” Fletch trotted out his automatic stalling tactic whilst he tried to work out where she actually was, and what his gut was telling him about this Peter Parker.  “Ooo…” He blew out his cheeks when he saw the theatre schedules.

 

“Problem Fletch?” asked Serena, coming out of her office in time to see Fletch’s reaction and to notice the man leaning against the nurses’ station.

 

“Ah, Ms Campbell.  This gentleman’s looking for Ms Wolfe but she’s in theatre and…”  Fletch lapsed into silence when he saw Serena’s expression change to one of understanding, that Bernie was not only currently in theatre but would be in theatre for quite some time...

 

“Serena Campbell, Consultant Surgeon, and you are?”

 

“Peter Parker.”  He waited for a moment for the invariably inevitable reaction but, seeing nothing but patient anticipation of a further explanation as to who he was and why he was here, he rapidly continued.  “I’m looking for Bernie Wolfe.”

 

“So you keep saying Mr Parker.”

 

“It’s, ah Colonel actually.”  Seeing that his rank had, in part helped to thaw some of the ice he was encountering, he held out his hand to Serena whilst glancing down at his red, blue and yellow striped tie.  “RAMC, explains the tie…” He looked between Serena and Fletch as Serena shook his hand.

 

“You served with her in Afghanistan?” Fletch had asked the question before he had time to think through whether it was a smart question to ask, something he didn’t need Serena’s narrow-eyed glare to tell him as she let go of the Colonel’s hand.

 

“Yes, and Iraq and…” Colonel Parker saw the nurse manager’s expression shift, and, acting on instinct he shifted tack immediately, “...a couple of places in between.  Am I right in thinking she’s going to be in theatre for some time then?”

 

“Yes.”  Serena realised she sounded harsher than she’d meant to and, as Colonel Parker’s head snapped around to look at her rather than Fletch, she saw Fletch’s wide-eyed look making it clear she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed how forceful she sounded.  “Which, as you can no doubt appreciate, means it is quite a complicated operation, given Ms Wolfe’s skills…” Serena cleared her throat and picked up a patient file that was conveniently resting on top of the tray of paperwork, trying to signal that she was also rather busy and didn’t have all shift to stand around making small talk.

 

“Of course.  I am in no rush…” Smiling politely, he glanced around the ward, noting the door he’d arrived through.  “I saw a coffee shop by the entrance I came through… I’ll get out of your way and wait for the Major there.  If you could let her know when she’s finished in theatre?”

 

“Of course.”  Returning a polite smile of her own, Serena watched with a fixed expression as he picked up his briefcase and, with shoulders square and back straight, he turned around and headed for the coffee shop were, seemingly possessed of limitless patience, he was going to wait for Bernie.

 

By the time Colonel Parker was off AAU, Serena’s smile was a grimace and she spoke through clenched teeth.

 

“Fletch…” 

 

“Yes Serena?”

 

“Where’s Alex?”

 

“Dr D?”  Not expecting the question, Fletch tackled the computer again, looking for the list of anaesthetists that was circulated to all ward managers (along with lists of other key specialisms) each morning.  “Keller apparently.  How’d you know she was in?”

 

“Is she in theatre at the moment?”  asked Serena, ignoring Fletch’s question.

 

“Uh, one sec…” Fletch just about managed to navigate the theatre schedules without swearing as he tried to work out where Alex might be.  “Nope, she’s with Mr Levy and Dr Copeland in half an hour, but nothing at the mo.”

 

“If anyone wants me….” declared Serena, putting the patient file back where she’d picked it up from as she turned towards the lift.  “I’ll be on Keller.”

 

“Of course you will…” sighed Fletch, watching his boss speed up to catch the lift, leaving him to contemplate consultant free ward, a ward that he realised he’d become rather used to having two consultants on, weird as that had at first seemed.  “Wonder what the Colonel wants…” he muttered, trying to work out where to start in the war against paperwork.  “Wonder if anyone calls him Spiderman…” 


	2. Chapter 2

"Ms Campbell!"

 

"Mr Levy..." Serena looked awkwardly around the otherwise reasonably quiet Keller Ward.  "Is Dr Dawson around?"  It felt strange, using her full name, but she realised she was hoping that 'Dr D' was 'their' thing, special to AAU.

 

"Oh, yes."  Sacha looked at Serena with eyes that were looked all too knowing, that despite being kind made her feel transparent and fragile even when she was actually full of fire and fury.  "She's in the locker room I think."

 

"Thanks."

 

Not sure whether to be grateful or worried that she'd be able to have this conversation with privacy, Serena headed to the locker room that the Keller staff used, relieved when she didn't meet anyone who dared to do more than nod in acknowledgment at her.

 

"Dr Dawson?"

 

"Se..I mean Ms Campbell."  Alex corrected herself just in time, remembering the F1s behind the open door, out of Serena's sightline just in time.  "Can I help AAU with something?" she asked, uncertain whether to try and leave the locker room with Serena or stay put by the window so that Serena had to come in and would discover they had eavesdroppers.

 

"Not ex..." Before Serena could ask Alex why she had to be here for AAU stuff, she heard the sound of a locker door closing and froze, only to find her ability to move restored when the two F1s who, now their shift was over, were finally ready to leave and go do whatever it was they did when they weren't in hospital.

 

"It's just us Serena." Alex had got as far as being friendly with Serena but wasn’t yet sure she’d go as far as to think of the Vascular Surgeon as a friend of hers in her own right, with Alex still considering the older woman as her girlfriend’s friend that she also got on with.  However, Bernie was proving to be a remarkably effective topic to bond over and Alex was starting to appreciate Serena’s sense of humour and way of looking at life.

 

"What?  Oh, umm, right."  Alex watched as Serena wrung her hands together, nervously fiddling with her watch and hospital pass and generally failing to speak.  Finally, when she realised that she'd be late for her next surgery if she didn't get the conversation started, Alex spoke.

 

“What’s she done?”

 

“What? No! I mean…” Startled and confused, Serena looked up at Alex, before sighing heavily.  “Was it that obvious?”

 

“To me,” agreed Alex easily, leaning back against the window and ostensibly watched the comings and goings in the carpark, only keeping an eye on Serena in her peripheral vision.  “I’ve become a bit of an expert I guess.”  Rather than pushing and prodding, Alex was content to let the moment grow between them, knowing that as incandescent as Serena’s fury might have made her, it would fade just as quickly given a chance.  “Whatever it is, she won’t have done it deliberately,” she said finally when she sensed Serena had calmed down as much as she was going to.

 

“I’m not sure she’s done anything actually…” Surprising herself with her conclusion, Serena stepped away from the window and sank down onto the bench, looking up at Alex, her confusion clear.  “She’s in theatre still.”  Having seen Alex with Bernie before the start of her shift, Serena didn’t need to explain to Alex what Bernie was ‘still’ operating on, or why it was Bernie operating and Serena was on the ward.

 

“But?”  Alex glanced at the clock on the wall, seeing that she wasn’t yet due in theatre but Serena was going to have to get to her point fairly quickly.

 

“Is she leaving?”  

 

"Pardon?”  It was Alex’s turn to be confused - not only was Serena’s question making no sense to her, but Alex was also at a loss to understand why Serena was so….irritated and angered by what she had evidently decided was already determined. 

 

“I’m sorry…” Serena looked down at her hands again, surprised to see they were clenched together, making her realise how irrationally she was behaving.  “I shouldn’t have asked you that….or like that.”

 

“What’s happened?”  Alex felt her heart pounding, but outwardly, in the same way that she always sounded calm and relaxed in the operating theatre when she was seeing the patient’s vitals spiralling out of control, she presented a ‘front’ that was completely at ease and relaxed, curious rather than concerned.  She knew Bernie, she trusted Bernie, she loved Bernie...

 

“There’s someone waiting for her downstairs, from the Army.”

 

“Ah.”  Breathing a little more easily now, Alex noticed that time was running out and so shifted tack.  “In uniform?”

 

“No, suit and tie, uh…” Serena shut her eyes as she tried to remember what the tie had looked like, finding that in her charge up to Keller to find Alex, she’d forgotten quite a bit of what the visitor had said.  “...blue, red and yellow stripes?  But with more blue than anything else.”

 

“Royal Army Medical Corps regimental tie,” explained Alex, smiling slightly as she started to assemble pieces of the jigsaw: a lone soldier, in civvies didn’t exactly narrow down the reasons for the visit, but did eliminate all of the worst case scenarios Alex had immediately thought of, starting with arrest on a conduct unbecoming charge.  “Technically it’s dull cherry, blue and old gold,” she continued, knowing that regimental trivia was not remotely relevant but unable to help herself.  Fortunately, it seemed to be having a positive effect on Serena, who had evidently suddenly remembered something else.

 

“Parker?  Colonel Peter Parker?  Ring any bells?”  Serena saw Alex’s shoulders slump.  “Clearly it does.  Friend of Bernie’s?” she asked, immediately regretting the archness of her tone when she saw the look Alex shot her.  “Sorry, none of my business.”

 

“Did you tell him she was in theatre?”

 

“Yes, but he said he’d wait…” Serena recalled how he’d calmly taken the news that Bernie was in theatre and just matter-of-factly accepted that he’d need to go and wait her out.  “I don’t think he’s in any rush to leave.”

 

“Perfect Peter wouldn’t.”  Alex ran her hands through her hair as she tried to force away the bubble of frustration that she was feeling, knowing she had to get it dealt with before she went to see Mr Levy’s patient.  As she let her hands drop, she saw the look of surprise on Serena’s face.  “Ah, sorry…” she grinned conspiratorially.  “He always hopes to get a superhero sort of nickname…”

 

“Male ego?” Serena knew the type all too well from her own career.

 

“Surgeon’s ego,” joked Alex, “and yes, I have met Bernie.”  She tucked her hair back behind her ears.  “Actually, it comes from his name - Peter Parker?”  Serena’s blank look prompted Alex to continue.  “It’s the name of the person, in the comics, who becomes Spiderman…” Alex grinned when she saw Serena’s eyes roll and heard her groan.  “In his parents’ defence, I don’t think they were comic book readers and it’s just a coincidence.”

 

“But not a helpful one.  Perfect Peter though?”

 

“Not to his face, obviously… don’t rush to tell Bernie?”

 

“Is there something I should know?”

 

“It’s complicated…” Alex pushed away from the wall, knowing she had to go to theatre and start prepping for the operation.  “But professional, army professional not medicine.  And definitely not romantic….”

 

“Sure about that?”

 

“No.  Well, yes.”  Sighing heavily, Alex tried again to explain.  “He’s got a crush on Bernie, hero worship sort of thing...he wasn’t the only one but he was one of the few, as far as I know, who ever had good enough surgical skills to stick around.”  Alex saw from Serena’s expression that she knew exactly what Alex was talking about, having no doubt, realised Alex belatedly, had similar experiences in her own career with younger surgeons trying to impress her but in their fluster, making a mess of things.

 

“But he’s a Colonel…”

 

“Now.  And so was she, once.”  Alex's phone started going as the alarm set to remind her to go to theatre went off.  "I'm sorry, I need to go to theatre."

 

"Of course."  Serena stood up, so Alex could get past her to the door.  "Thank you."

 

"Okay..." Alex didn't know what she was being thanked for, and didn't really like leaving Serena at this point, but there was a patient to prep and sedate for surgery.  "Not sure what for, but ok."  At a loss for words, and unable to delay any longer, Alex squeezed Serena's shoulder in what she hoped was interpreted as a hint to continuing friendship in the future and reassurance that she wasn’t overly concerned by Colonel Parker’s sudden appearance before slipping through the door and out into the Ward, leaving Serena alone in the locker room wondering why she even more confused….


	3. Chapter 3

Arriving back on the ward, Bernie headed for the nurses’ station, her intention being to quickly see how AAU was doing before having a long sit down in the Consultant’s office with a coffee and something to eat.  The mammoth surgery had gone well but it was of sufficient length and intensity that she’d happily tackle some near-mindless paperwork for an hour or so if it earned her the sit down and sugar hit.  Nodding greetings at passing nurses and students, a neutral but serious expression fixed on her face so as to not attract the attention of any but the most desperate of patients or their loved ones, she made it to the computer without being dragged into something: the first stage of her plan was achieved.

 

Having wiggled the mouse to wake up the dark computer screen, she began to leaf through the stack of patient files left on the table next to the keyboard while she waited for the at times sluggish computerised admissions system to creak into gear and be ready to actually tell her what was happening on the Ward and ED.  Seeing no patient files that required her particular skill set, nor anything on the computer screen to indicate that AAU was particularly stretched with her absence from the ward, she was about to seize the moment and head for the coffee shop when she noticed Fletch and Raf having a rather animated conversation on the far side of the Ward.  While her first instinct was that they were quiet but not that quiet on AAU and that she’d rather they were dealing with patients, she then realised that there was a tension in Raf’s body that made her stay where she was and, with a notional half an eye scanning the computer screen in front of her, watch to see what was happening.  Seconds later, she was none the wiser on the specifics but was certain she’d seen enough to know she had to act, and quickly: time to rely on instinct and long ingrained behaviours.

 

“Captain Dawson?”  There was something about the way that Bernie’s voice cut across the ward that brought everyone, staff and patients alike, to a standstill.  It wasn’t that she shouted, quite the opposite in fact, with her voice quiet and calm, its tone commanding respect and compliance but not upsetting or distressing.

 

“Ma’am?”  Old habits die hard and although still ‘at ease’ in both a civilian and military sense of the word, Alex was alert and ready for something, her focus pin sharp and centred on Bernie.

 

“A word please,” said Bernie, straightening up from the computer screen and to the casual observer, looked for the first time towards their little group.  “If you have a moment.”

 

“Of course…” The ‘Ma’am’ was left unspoken as, watching Bernie watching them, Alex was suddenly all too aware of their audience, of the environment, the decidedly civilian environment that they were in. Smiling tightly at Raf and Fletch, Alex nimbly stepped around them and walked towards Bernie, thinking that whatever it was she wanted to talk about was probably to do with whatever was on the computer screen.  She was a little bit surprised when Bernie, her desire for coffee forgotten about, stepped away from the desk and set off down the corridor instead.  Confused, but not confident enough to question Bernie, Alex followed, knowing as she did that once it was apparent that they weren’t staying in view of their colleagues on the ward, the hum of conversation and blur of activity would resume almost instantaneously.

 

Glancing to her left and seeing that Mrs Rawston had not yet been transferred upstairs, Bernie veered slightly to her right, opening a door and standing against it, gesturing for Alex to precede her into the room.  Hands in pockets, frowning slightly, Alex nevertheless turned to her right and walked in…

 

Moving like lightning, Bernie stepped away from the door the moment Alex was inside the locker room.  Letting the door slam behind her, Bernie reached out and lightly caught her lover’s shoulder, turning her round so they were facing each other.  Before Alex had a chance to really register what was happening, Bernie had taken three steps forward, the second step forcing Alex to step back, automatically registering the cool metal of the lockers against her shoulders and back, the thin scrub top doing little to mask the sensation.  There was just enough time for her to catch herself before her head collided with the metal as Bernie’s third step brought her right in front of Alex, their bodies tantalisingly close but not actually making contact. 

 

“Ber…” Bernie covered Alex’s lips with her own as, one hand reaching forwards to thread her fingers through Alex’s hair, her other arm fell against the locker next to her lover’s head, the noise not registering with either of them as, leaning in to deepen the kiss almost before it had begun, Bernie used her arm to brace her weight.  

 

For a split second, Alex was frozen, unable to process what exactly was happening, unable to understand why it was happening.  But that befuddlement began to clear as she started to register distinct components - these were  _ Bernie’s _ lips on hers;  _ Bernie’s  _ fingers tangled in her hair;  _ Bernie’s  _ breasts pressing against her own… her analysis didn’t get much further as by then, like a restart button had been hit somewhere deep inside her, she was no longer frozen, no longer static but instead responding with her whole body to her lover’s kiss.  Her arms, feeling weightless, rose to wrap around Bernie’s body, keeping her close, holding her tighter, fingers reaching to stroke her neck and back; her mouth alive, wanting to taste and explore, her tongue insistent, wanting to duel and battle with her lover’s, a battle that was simultaneously familiar and invigorating.

 

Finally, when lips were bruised and mouths were dry, Bernie eased up, lifting her body away from Alex’s, allowing a sliver of space to form between them, their physical contact being replaced with eye contact as each searched the other’s gaze, one looking with questions, the other looking for answers.

 

“I take it there’s nine successful atriocaval shunts in the world now?” asked Alex, searching in Bernie’s face for any other clues as to why she’d just been so thoroughly kissed.

 

“Ten.”  Bernie caught her lip as she tried to remember the detail Mr Hanssen had mentioned in passing earlier.  “Someone’s done one in Sweden I think.”  Bernie refocused her attention solely on Alex, not interested in trying to remember the random fact that was probably on some Wikipedia page for anyone with a phone to find.  “Not sure what all the fuss is about.”  

 

While some might have mistaken Bernie’s casual dismissal of the surgical miracle she’d just worked, Alex knew that her girlfriend was completely sincere - it was a procedure Alex knew Bernie had read about, studied, practiced repeatedly on cadavers and successfully completed four times, that Alex was aware of.  The first two times Alex had been in theatre, sharing in the strange mixture of fear and admiration as, confronted with seriously wounded soldiers who’d beaten impossible odds to even get back from the field to the operating table alive, she’d been part of the teams that, led by Major Wolfe, had set about buying the wounded soldiers time while a plan for the rest of their injuries was put in place.  In Alex’s mind at least, those had to count as successful shunts - although the soldiers failed to survive their injuries, their deaths were ultimately due not to blood loss or heart failure as a result of the shunt procedure, but the extensive trauma elsewhere in their bodies.  With the successful completion of the second shunt here in Holby, for Bernie it was now just another technique, another option available to her that she could use to save a life.

 

“Beans on toast for dinner then.”  Although Alex was proud of her attempt to sound light and teasing, she knew the moment she spoke that she’d failed to convince Bernie.

 

“Lovely.”  Bernie took another half step back, so she wasn’t crowding Alex as much, knowing that sometimes Alex talked her way through difficult topics with her hands as much as her words.  “What’s happened?”  She chewed on her lip as she saw the emotion Alex had been trying to contain reappearing near the surface.  “What are you worried I’ve done?”  She asked the question not out of ego, but from knowing herself and knowing how easily she managed to misstep and hurt the woman she loved.

 

“Perfect Peter’s here.”

 

“In England?”  Bernie frowned, trying to remember what she’d heard about his last posting, confident it was another overseas tour somewhere.

 

“In Holby, Pulses actually.”

 

“The coffee shop?  In the Wyvern Wing?”  Bernie’s confusion was evident and Alex’s relief that Bernie wasn’t expecting him was mixed up with guilt that she’d doubted her.  “What’s he doing here?”

 

“No clue…” The guilt was growing at a rate Alex couldn’t manage to live with.  “Serena thought...I… I didn’t trust you… I’m sorry….”  Catching her bottom lip in her teeth, Alex tensed her jaws so much that Bernie could see the abused lip turning white.

 

“Hey…” Acting on instinct in the same way she operated, Bernie set about trying to stop the symptoms she could see before she worried about tackling the underlying cause, which in this case, meant pulling Alex into a tight hug.  “It’s ok…” she muttered, shifting her feet slightly when she felt Alex’s weight sinking onto her as Alex buried her face against Bernie’s neck, the low collar of her scrub top providing little protection when Alex’s eyes watered and the moisture escaped as tears.  Running her hands up and down Alex’s back in long, smooth strokes, the thin fabric of dark blue scrubs that somehow Alex always wore in the hospital no matter what ward she was working on made it easy for Bernie to feel the tension Alex had been struggling to contain on AAU starting to gradually fade.

 

“I’m sorry…” repeated Alex quietly, mumbling into Bernie’s collarbone, making the surgeon smile at the slightly ticklish sensation.  “Serena...I…”

 

“Have you seen him?” asked Bernie, trying to piece together what had happened based mainly on what Alex wasn’t saying.

 

“No.”  Sniffing a bit, Alex lifted up her head so she could look at Bernie, feeling horrible for the fury she’d allowed herself to work up based on virtually nothing.  “He came looking for you.  Got Serena instead.”

 

“In uniform?”  Bernie was at a loss as to why he was here, asking for her.  Trying to picture her unread emails, she couldn’t think of an email from the Army she’d ignored, nor one she might have sent that would have attracted such individual attention.  Nor, thinking further back to her last visit to the Regimental HQ at Aldershot when she’d still been on medical leave before joining the staff at Holby, had there been any indication that she’d be attracting the attention of the Regiment now.  Which only left three things, none of them particularly pleasant.

 

“Civvies, but he’s wearing the tie.”  Alex could feel the pounding of her heart easing and the roaring blaze of embarrassment fading with every sweeping stroke of her lover’s hands.

 

“Not here to Discharge me then,” decided Bernie, grinning in a way that had Alex chuckling in spite of her emotions still actively riding on a rollercoaster.  “Or bring me up on Charges.”

 

“Orders?”  Alex hadn’t quite intended to ask that as a question, but her sudden hiccup stopped her from continuing with a more rhetorical statement.

 

“Or a marriage proposal.”  Bernie wasn’t surprised when she got a less than playful slap on the arm for that, the sting being immediately soothed by the confirmation that Alex was starting to feel a little more herself again.  “You were the one who told me he had a crush on me,” she pointed out, trying to be reasonable and instead earning a rather impressive dirty look from Alex.

 

“Him and half the regiment,” grumbled Alex, not having fond memories of that rather awkward Mess Evening when she’d seen Bernie at Regimental HQ after ‘Colonel’ Wolfe had returned to ‘Major’ Wolfe.  It seemed that Captain Dawson wasn’t the only person to have found Colonel Wolfe an impossibly unattainable and therefore ‘safe’ fantasy - Major Wolfe on the other hand, had been still fantasy material but somehow, the lack of a pip alongside the Crown rank insignia had made her not quite so unattainable in the eyes of many. What hadn’t helped was Bernie’s inability to not be perceived as flirtatious - she would swear that the only person she was trying to flirt with was Alex, but her sharp, dry wit and ready smile if she was amused by something was easily confused with flirting by many of the regiment that night.  

 

“I’ve only kissed one officer…” observed Bernie mildly, her eyebrow arched pointedly as she looked Alex squarely in the eye, waiting for the penny to drop.  “That night or any other.”

 

“I’m sorry…”  Alex felt the heat rising in her cheeks as she realised what Bernie was and wasn’t saying, which, considering what Alex had been implying, was incredibly generous of the surgeon and made Alex’s self-made misery even worse.  “I…” She didn’t know how to say what she was feeling, how to explain to this woman, who had sacrificed everything that had defined her for Alex, that Alex was now feeling insecure about their future.  Here was Bernie, her marriage over, her children only just realising that their mother was far from perfect but whose flaws were different to those that their father and aunt had created for them.  The divorce had been messy and nasty, with Marcus doing everything he could to try and discredit Bernie as a surgeon and an officer as well as a mother.  Here was a woman who had risked everything for Alex, who had sorted her life out so she was in a position to know she wanted Alex, so why was Alex feeling like this?  “I…” Her cheeks were now hot and damp as she found herself unable to stop the tears falling.  “I love you, so much…”  She smiled as she moved aside some of the strands of Bernie’s hair away from the surgeon’s face.  “I just feel like I’m dreaming...that…”

 

“That we’re in another happy bubble?” guessed Bernie, wrapping her arms more tightly around Alex, feeling a weight she hadn’t noticed she’d been carrying around with her lift.  “Waiting for the bang?”

 

“Are there IEDs in Holby?” Relief at Bernie understanding and not bolting saw Alex’s unease lessen a fraction - a feeling shared wasn’t the same as a solution, but it was better than carrying the burden alone.

 

“Hope not.”  Bernie relaxed her hold on Alex just enough for them to part enough to be able to look at each other, although not before giving Alex an extra tight hug first, as if psyching herself up for something.

 

“But?”  As much as Alex hated how much experience she had at trying to fathom what was going on in Bernie’s head, she was glad she had some experience to draw on in moments like this - she now knew that Bernie’s own battle to not bolt and avoid her own thoughts and emotions was finely balanced.  It was hard to know what to say or do to not tip the balance over into ‘bolt’, but so far, this time at least, hanging onto Bernie almost as tightly as the surgeon had just been hugging her seemed to be a safe starting point.

 

“But you hate locumming.”

 

“I…”  Alex started to deny it automatically but found the denial sticking in her throat as she realised there was something in what her girlfriend was saying.

 

“Ok, not hate.  But you need a team and a unit as much as I do.”  Alex had to smile at Bernie’s assessment which was exactly the same as if she were stood here with fading pulse and dropping pressure - blunt, to the point and accurate.  If she didn’t love the surgeon, she’d probably find her bloody irritating.

 

“Is this where you tell me there’s a vacancy I should be applying for?” Alex was trying to sound serious, but she was struggling to take her own proposal seriously.  Not only did things like that only happen in plots of bad (straight) romantic comedies, but she wasn’t actually sure that her getting a job at Holby was a solution - as much as she enjoyed her occasional shifts in AAU and on other wards, she was reasonably conscious that the AAU team were at times using her as a ‘Bernie interpreter’, something that was fine on the odd time she was working, but would ultimately undermine Bernie if the situation became more permanent.

 

“Actually no.”  Even by Bernie’s standards, that was excessively blunt and saw Alex looking slightly slack-jawed in surprise and had Bernie frowning.  “What I mean is no, I’m not about to tell you about a vacancy because I don’t know about any.”

 

“Nice save Ms Wolfe, carry on…” teased Alex, feeling the lightness return to both of them as they continued their serious conversation but with less volatile emotions.

 

“Too kind Captain…” Bernie stuck her tongue out at Alex who made to snap at it with her teeth, both knowing there was never any chance of contact.  “What I was actually going to say was there’s no particular reason for me to be at Holby rather than any other hospital…ah…” Bernie raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at Alex whose mouth had got as far as opening, clearly planning to interrupt before quickly changing her mind.  “...assuming that Ronnie and Charlie don’t object.”  She’d been making good progress in building a relationship with each of her children since their rather dramatic re-introduction to each other in the summer, and while the wounds inflicted on both sides weren’t yet completely healed, they were certainly on good terms with her, and in their own ways, with Alex too.  “Which just leaves the Army.”

 

“What about the Army?”  Alex’s status was quite clear-cut now, the end of her Afghan tour coinciding with the point at which she had the option of sign on again for another few years or resign her full time Commission and switch over to the Reserves, a decision she’d taken swiftly and decisively.  She was now Dr Alex Dawson, except one weekend a month when Captain Dawson did her Reserve Duty, although with her current locum status giving her a certain degree of flexibility in her schedule, she was occasionally doing the odd extra duty when Captain Dawson’s skills and experiences were useful for certain Exercises.  Bernie’s status however, was a little less cut and dried.

 

“Not sure…” Bernie caught her lip as she lapsed into silence, trying to remember what her options had been, what she’d potentially already ruled out in fits of pique and half-hearted attempts at appeasing Marcus during her recovery from the IED and, perhaps most importantly, what she felt now.  “I think it’s a bit hokey-cokey.”

 

“Excuse me?”  All Alex could think of was an annoying sing-song sort of game she’d not enjoyed playing at break in primary school.

 

“In, out, shaken all about?” Bernie didn’t even pretend to protest when she was thumped by Alex - that was, in retrospect, atrociously bad even by her most lenient standards.  “I could just go and ask him.”

 

“Ask who?”

 

“Perfect Peter…”  Bernie wasn’t sure why she was feeling tense, surely the thought of seeing someone else from the Regiment wasn’t making her nervous…

 

“Are you going to call him Sir?”  There was a lightness in Alex’s voice that suggested she was already laughing at the idea, an idea she evidently hadn’t meant for Bernie to take seriously.

 

“Why would I do that?”

 

“He does technically outrank you now…”  It was only when she’d finished speaking that Alex realised Bernie either hadn’t known or, more likely, had known and then forgotten that Major Peter Parker had been promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel during Bernie’s most recent tour to Afghanistan.  It wasn’t something that would have bothered Bernie when she was on tour, as the whole point of her request to be reduced in rank was because being a Colonel had kept her out of the operating theatre.  That and her limited tolerance for paperwork.

 

“I shall call him Peter,” declared Bernie firmly, “or Mr Parker.  He technically is a surgeon still, one of the better ones.”  Which, as anyone who’d ever spent much time in theatre with her knew, was about the highest praise Major Wolfe would ever give.  “You going back to AAU?”  she asked, suddenly remembering that she’d originally yanked Alex off the ward to avoid the anaesthetist losing her temper with Raf and Fletch.  “Actually, why were you on AAU?”

 

“No, shift finished…” Alex looked at Bernie’s watch, since moving Bernie’s hand from her waist was somehow easier than letting go of Bernie and pulling her phone out of her pocket.  “...twenty minutes ago.  I was looking for you.”  Alex let go of Bernie’s wrist and slipped her hand back around the surgeon’s waist, only stopping herself sliding her fingers inside Bernie’s scrubs at the last moment.  “You in theatre again?”  Alex couldn’t remember what Bernie had said her shift was, although there was always the shift when the shift pattern went out the window. 

 

“I wasn’t last time I checked,” which had been about 30 seconds before she’d become aware of Alex’s impending sense of humour failure with Raf and Fletch.  “And my shift finishes in…” Bernie did some quick mental arithmetic, “about forty-five minutes.”  Well, technically about thirty-seven, if she’d remembered Alex’s shift correctly, but professionalism meant that she’d spend a few minutes making sure the next shift actually knew who they had on the Ward and why.  If the clinical Gods of good fortune were on her side, she’d probably get to leave on time...maybe.

 

“Hungry?”  As questions went, it wasn’t Alex’s more original ones, and she didn’t even need to wait for Bernie to answer it, as her stomach beat her brain to it with an impressive rumble.  “Go see Perfect Peter and we go home via the chippy?” suggested Alex, thinking of the Fish and Chip shop they’d discovered three streets parallel to the one the flat was in - it wasn’t open until 3am like the one Ronnie had shown them, but it was near and good and today wasn’t the wrong side of closing time.  Seeing her smile, Alex leaned forwards and kissed Bernie’s nose.  “I’ll wait for you in your office,” Renewing a professional acquaintance with Perfect Peter wasn’t on her to do list. 

 

“Chicken.”

 

“Not from the chippy!” and, to the sound of Bernie’s increasingly animated stomach’s protest, Alex let go of Bernie and preparing to head back to the Keller locker room where her stuff was.


	4. Chapter 4

“Peter.”

 

“Bernie! Thank God...”  Colonel Peter Parker jumped to his feet and held out his hand, which she shook briefly, wondering what prompted his unexpected greeting.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Sorry…” He self consciously smoothed his tie against his chest and gestured for her to take a seat, only to belatedly remember his manners.  “...sorry, can I get you a coffee or something?”

 

“This is fine, thanks.”  She waved the bottle of fruit juice she’d bought from the vending machine on her way to find him, no longer interested in a coffee but instead just wanting to find out why he was here as quickly as was polite.  “And for what were you thanking a deity you never believed in?”  She’d not let him forget that piece of youthful folly and arrogance in a rush - it had been a lesson he’d mostly learned and he had managed not to trample all over a patient’s beliefs in their earshot again, or be aggressively rude to the Army chaplains he’d subsequently met but still, that wasn’t the same as finding a faith himself.

 

“That you didn’t call me Colonel…”  He looked nervous and sheepish while he waited for her reaction, two things she’d have almost staked money on never seeing him show, although Bernie kept her own expression completely neutral while she waited for him to elaborate.  “...or Sir.”

 

“You’re not in uniform and I’m…” Bernie wasn’t quite sure how to finish that sentence, not sure if she was retired or reserved or just ‘on secondment’.  Fortunately, he appeared to either not notice or think she was about to say something else and interrupted her.

 

“Not keen on bullshit, I know, so I’ll come to the point so you can get back to theatre.”  Bernie hid her smile by taking a sip of her fruit juice - he may have had a promotion since she’d last seen him, but he was still ‘Perfect Peter’, trying to always be one step ahead of her.  “We completed the Tri-Service Trauma Services Review…” He pushed one of the two cardboard files of papers across the table to her.  “The full findings are in there.”

 

“Who completed the review?”  asked Bernie, pulling the file towards her but not opening it.  “Not Rackham?” she asked, horrified at the thought of that particular colleague of theirs being given the task and sensing from his use of the ‘we’ that the RAMC had continued to take the lead after she’d left the review and returned to theatre, both military and medical.

 

“No.  He volunteered but HQ tasked me with it.”  He’d been under no illusions about the fact that he was their second choice.  “Seems their first choice turned them down and, to make certain they didn’t order her in a way that couldn’t be turned down, not only volunteered for a reduction in rank but got herself blown up in theatre just to make damn certain she wasn’t given it.”

 

“I’m not going to apologise…” pointed out Bernie, having another mouthful of juice while she considered what she probably shouldn’t say and, by process of elimination came up with something she could say.  “Anyway, I did the difficult bit.  And I didn’t exactly go looking for that IED.”  Quite the opposite in fact, with one of the last memories she had of before the explosion being seeing what looked like a potentially huge IED appear in the tracks left by the vehicle in front of them, prompting her to turn the wheel sharply to avoid it.  She’d subsequently learned from the reports she’d read while she was recovering that she’d been right to change path as the IED she’d avoided was several times larger than the one that exploded, not that Marcus had seen it that way, but ancient history didn’t require a review just now.

 

“Both things I’m grateful for.  The recommendations were approved almost as a formality.”

 

“All of which you could have emailed me about.”  Even if Bernie had been born only yesterday when it came how the Army behaved and worked, she’d have spotted that there was something else that had brought him here, in person and prepared to wait who knew how long for her to finish in theatre before talking to her.

 

“For your consideration.”  He passed her a second cardboard file, this time one she had to take hold of rather than just leave it on the table, although as with the last file, she didn’t open it immediately.

 

“And by consideration you mean?”

 

“A few suggestions as to what your next posting could be.”

 

“Are they really suggestions Peter?”

 

“Yes.”  He watched her open the file and glance at the first page before closing it again and looking back up at him, waiting for him to continue, her face inscrutable as he’d expected it would be.  “There is one other suggestion that’s not in there.”

 

“Discharge.”  She put the file down on top of the first file he’d given her, the positioning of the pile making it clear that she’d not rejected them but nor had she yet accepted that they were her files to take with her.

 

“Honorable.”  He adjusted his tie as he gathered up his courage.  “Unless you’d go into the Reserves?”  He saw her shake her head at that, knowing she’d always been of the opinion that when her time came to not be on the Active List she’d be done with it all, rather than hang onto her ‘former’ life through the Reserves.  She was the first to admit that it wasn’t the military routine that held the appeal to her, but the military medicine - if she couldn’t be a full time medic in the military, she wasn’t going to keep dipping in and out of the training weekends - she’d rather be in a civilian hospital and join a gym.  “Unofficially…” he cleared his throat.  “I know about Alex Dawson.”  She looked at him with a mixture of warning and alarm, a warning that he heeded by choosing his words with care and alarm that he sought to allay by speaking quickly.  “Congratulations, to both of you.”  He smiled at her look of surprise, knowing that was probably the first time he’d caught her off balance about anything.  “Knew I never had a chance.”

 

“With Alex?” asked Bernie as she tucked an invisible stray strand of hair behind her ear, chewing on her lip in a way that made him wonder if she was nervous or just trying not to laugh.

 

“With either of you.”  He glanced at his watch, ostensibly noticing the time but really because he was suddenly feeling like he’d intruded on her life and stamped over something fragile that he’d no right to touch.  He should have emailed, but he’d wanted to see her, to see that she really was healed in body and spirit after everything that had fallen out of that IED explosion.  “Say hi to the Captain for me?”

 

“Of course.”  Bernie stood up with him, the two files held against her body with her left arm.  “These suggestions…”

 

“Feel free to improve on them, at least, whichever one you decide you want to take.”  He knew he was confusing her with his vagueness, knew too that she wouldn’t say anything but would instead just work her way through it all when she was ready, tackling it like one of her surgeries, with neat incisive decisions taken with minimal fuss or hesitation once she decided she was ready to start.

 

“Timeline?”

 

“Whenever you’re decided.”  He knew that whatever time she took to take her decision it would be less time than the RAMC had allowed.  It was a waste of words to tell her anything else.  “Email’s fine unless you’d rather call - all the contacts are in there.”  He nodded his head to the file she was holding.  “This is official, so feel free to contact anyone you want to about anything you read.”

 

“Thanks.”  Not sure what else to say, small talk not being her ‘thing’ and unable to retreat to perfect military routine because she was, confronted with the Officer she could have been still, suddenly feeling not remotely military and instead decidedly civilian in her Holby scrubs and trainers.  She’d not given ‘Major Wolfe’ permission to leave, but had that part of her just dispersed?  Leaving behind little crumbs of memory that she could draw on in odd moments but never actually amounted to a whole?  Realising she was letting her mind wander, she concentrated on Peter again, extending her hand to shake his, hoping he either hadn’t noticed her thoughtfulness or, if he had, she hoped he was assuming it was to do with the ‘suggestions’.

 

“It’s good to see you…” He returned the handshake firmly, his words sincere.  “You’re looking well.”  Worried he was straying into too personal territory again, he changed tack quickly.  “Impressive set up…” Seeing her expression twitch ever so slightly, he rushed on.  “..on that ward, the Acute Assessment Unit?  Met, uh Fletch?  And Serena Campbell…”

 

“AAU, and yes, Staff Nurse Fletcher and Ms Campbell…” Bernie could only imagine what sort of welcome he’d got, especially if he hadn’t immediately declared who he was.  “Do you want the tour?”  She had no idea about the protocol for showing him round, probably would require a form from Hanssen or something but she was reasonably confident she could walk him through ED, AAU...maybe Darwin depending who was ruling that ward as their kingdom.

 

“Another time?”  He nodded towards the files she was holding.  “You know the Army, there’s always paperwork, whatever you decide.”  He saw her cautious smile, having clearly reserved judgment until he’d finished talking.  “Gives me an excuse to escape Aldershot...if I’m intelligence gathering.”  He didn’t know what he’d said that was so funny, but he’d obviously struck a nerve because her face broke into a genuine smile that almost saw her laugh.

 

“You mean spying…” Bernie wasn’t sure if Jac Naylor would appreciate being the source of her amusement, but it was an unexpected memory that wasn’t unpleasant from what turned out to be one of the worst periods of her life in terms of friendly faces that could be remembered with anything even vaguely approaching fondness.

 

“Not on you.  But it would be interesting to see how an NHS Trust has coped with you at full speed…”  He saw her expression shift fractionally before she schooled her features again, making him smile and correct himself.  “Fourth gear?  Third gear?”

 

“Goodbye Peter,” declared Bernie firmly, amused at his attempts at flattery that once upon a time he might have been intending to be flirtatious.  “And thank you.  For coming in person.”

 

“It never crossed my mind not to,” he replied sincerely, smoothing his tie down again, betraying his nervousness once more.  “I think you might find them interesting…”

 

“Spit it out Peter,” prompted Bernie, finally twigging that his nervousness was because there was something else he wanted to say that he was worried she might not appreciate.  “If it’s something I don’t like, I will at least remember you technically outrank me.”  The paperwork alone would ruin the microscopic speck of satisfaction punching him might bring, nevermind that any swelling or bruising would impact on her ability to operate.

 

“Thanks, I think...ah, those suggestions…”

 

“I’ve already said I’ll look at them with an open mind.”

 

“The, ah, second and fourth ones…”

 

“Yes?”  Seeing he wasn’t exactly forthcoming with details, Bernie opened the file again and scanned the summary of what was in the file, before looking back at him, wondering what made him single those particular two postings out.

 

“They’re both places where the local medical services are looking for an anaesthetist...and it would be possible for Captain Dawson to complete her reserve duties with the local detachments.”

 

“And you just happen to know this because?”

 

“I asked, unofficially.”  He swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling like the first time he’d been assisting her in theatre and, despite the fact that she’d been operating continuously for approaching thirty hours with barely any sterile equipment left, she’d still taken the trouble to ascertain his skill levels before letting him loose on her patients: although he’d answered her question, she always knew when he had still only half answered it.  “I thought it might prove to be useful…”

 

“Presumptuous.”

 

“I prefer romantic optimist…” He picked up his briefcase, ready to leave. 

 

“They don’t make Colonels like they used to.”

 

“No, but I’m trying my best to live up to your example, in and out of theatre.”

 

“I can show all this to Alex?”  It hadn’t occurred to Bernie to ask before, but she suddenly realised that not only could she start considering the options without at least sharing the possibilities with Alex, she didn’t want to consider the options without Alex’s opinion and input.

 

“Of course.”

 

“Thanks….”  Before she could say anything else, Bernie’s name was called by Fletch, clearly needing her for something fairly urgent as he was already holding a set of gloves and a trauma gown for her.  “It seems I’m…”

 

“Go.”

 

He didn’t have to make it an order even if he’d wanted to - she had already gone.

 

Picking up his empty coffee mug and her half finished fruit juice bottle, leaving the table clear for the next person, he deposited them at the tray return point and continued out to his car, whistling.

 

She’d changed - it would be hard not to after her injuries and then what happened with her personal life, but she was fundamentally still the same Bernie Wolfe.

 

And thank the deity he didn’t believe in for that.


	5. Chapter 5

“I’d forgotten you did this…” said Alex finally, closing the first of the two files that Peter Parker had given Bernie at the hospital.

 

“Mmm?”  Realising she’d closed her eyes at some point, Bernie willed herself to open them as she lazily tipped her head back, trapping Alex’s fingers between her head and the seat cushion.  From her vantage point, sitting on the floor, her back supported by the small, sort of two person if you knew each other really well and didn’t have anything in your pockets, seat couch, Bernie looked at an upside down and slightly at an angle Alex.  “Sorry…”  She grinned crookedly, her head ending up supported by her lover’s hip as Alex sat across the couch, her feet dangling off the far armrest, her shoulders leaning against the other armrest.  

 

Not long after she’d returned to England from her flying hospital contract, Alex had asked Bernie why she had such a small couch.

* * *

 

_ “Everything else sounded so big…”  Bernie had chewed on her lip, her forkful of dinner suspended in mid-air between her plate and mouth.  “...and anyway, there was only me going to sit on it…”  She put the forkful of food in her mouth and chewed automatically, still considering her answer to Alex’s question.  “...who’d sit on a three-seater with me?” _

 

_ “But didn’t you want to stretch out?”  Alex had, on first study of the flat, assumed that Bernie was renting a furnished flat, but gradually she’d learned from the occasional throwaway remark about ‘braving IKEA’ and ‘not speaking pictogram’ that the flat had been unfurnished aside from the carpet, curtains and built in wardrobes.   Therefore, the slightly spartan layout that wasn’t quite slick enough to be deliberately minimalist was entirely Bernie’s choice...which did at least explain why Alex had immediately sensed ‘Bernie’ in the flat, even if she didn’t quite understand some of the choices. _

 

_ “There’s the bed…”  Bernie gestured towards the bedroom where, much to Alex’s relief, there was a very nicely proportioned and comfortable King-sized bed.  Given that Bernie also hadn’t thought to organise herself with a television (she’d paid for a TV licence, just never quite got around to going out and buying a set), Alex did at least understand why Bernie wasn’t considering the sitting room as somewhere to ‘loaf’.  “...or the floor…”  Bernie scooped up another forkful of her dinner and chewed thoughtfully.  “We could…” she swallowed the final bit of her mouthful and, seeing she’d scraped her plate clean, put her fork down.  “...get a bigger one?   If it’s not comfortable?” _

 

_ “No!”  Putting her own fork down, not quite finished but uninterested in food now she’d set off down this rabbit hole of a conversation, Alex leaned forwards and wrapped her hand over Bernie’s as she pushed her plate out of the way with her other hand.  “I mean…”  What exactly did she mean?  “I just didn’t understand why you’d picked it…”  Alex ran her thumb over Bernie’s knuckles, not liking how tense they were.  “...but as long as you like it…”  She didn’t notice she’d started to lick her lips until she’d tried to moisten her tongue a third time.  “...I think I made my feelings fairly clear about it yesterday…”  Actually, she’d not so much made her feelings about the small couch clear as how she felt about coming home from a night shift to see Bernie stretched out on the floor reading a book, her head resting on the beanbag like a pillow.  It was funny - Alex didn’t consider herself overly tall or with particularly long legs, and Bernie was roughly the same height, but seeing Bernie lying stretched out like that, her jeans resting low on her hips, her shirt tails parted just enough for Alex to see she wasn’t wearing a belt or a t-shirt underneath the shirt… suffice to say, she’d discovered she wasn’t quite as tired as she thought.  “I just worry that you’re sitting on the floor because…”  _

 

_ “Because the seat’s not big enough for the both of us?  Nope.”  Bernie relaxed her clenched hand and turned it over, so she was now holding Alex’s hand, their palms just about touching and their fingers lightly touching each other’s pulse point on the inside of their wrists.  “I was never really a sofa sitter…”  Bernie self-consciously rubbed the back of her neck, her thumb instinctively resting lightly where she knew the surgical incision was, although it was now so faint it was only really Alex who saw it now.  “...and then all those weeks…”  She winced at the memory of her enforced rest and recuperation at ‘home’.  “...at least on a Ward you can watch the people…” _

 

_ “Intelligence gathering,” agreed Alex, knowing what Bernie also wasn’t saying, that she’d insisted on explaining almost as soon as they’d got back to the flat after Bernie had been scanned so Alex could see she really was alright:  she’d hated those weeks at home, forced to play the invalid by Marcus’ incessant hovering and less than subtle hints about the Army being ‘no place for a wife and mother’.  Now Alex thought about it, she could see why it had made perfect sense to Bernie to get what was effectively an oversized armchair rather than a long couch that she could lie on… _

 

_ “Exactly…”  Bernie stood up and put both their plates in the sink before picking up her wine glass and holding out her hand for Alex to take, thinking they could move this conversation into the other room and make use of the very piece of furniture they were talking about.  “...but if you don’t like it…” _

 

_ “I love it…”Alex thought about it as she followed Bernie through to the other room... Weirdly, she genuinely did love it.  The armrests were just the right height and width to lounge across, with one providing a nice back rest that became perfect if she put the small cushion Bernie also had on top of it, and the other being just the right distance away for her thighs to be supported at just the right not quite horizontal that meant her lower back wasn’t upset.  As an added bonus, the armrest was just wide enough for her legs to dangle over the other side.   “...it’s the perfect size for not sitting on properly…”  It was a bit of a running joke between them, or had been at Bastion at least, that given any number of chairs in a room, Alex would find a flat surface that wasn’t a chair to perch on if given half a chance… unless she needed to find a corner to do some paperwork, then that usually meant stealing Bernie’s chair.  “...which is strange…” _

 

_ “What is?” asked Bernie, turning on the lamps so they weren’t dazzled by the overhead light. _

 

_ “It being the perfect size for not sitting properly on…”  Alex demonstrated her point by flopping down onto it, briefly a blurred tangle of arms and legs while she got comfortable.  “...since you never sit like this.” _

 

_ “I don’t, no,” agreed Bernie, putting down her wine glass on the coffee table and sitting down on the floor, using the couch as a backrest, and tipping her head back so she could see Alex, smiling as she felt her lover’s fingers start to tangle in her hair and stroke her neck…. “...but maybe I still had hope…” _

* * *

 

 

“To be honest,” continued Bernie, shifting her shoulders slightly so she could see Alex at a less dizzying angle and, coincidentally, give Alex enough room for her fingers to start their gentle teasing again, helping Bernie to stay on the happy side of dozy.  “Until Peter mentioned it, I’d forgotten that I’d done most of that review as well.”  She frowned, her nose wrinkling as she thought about it, prompting Alex to smile - it would never do to tell a superior officer that she was cute, but a drowsey Bernie who was having her neck stroked was very, very cute and a sight Alex had always known she was extremely privileged to see.  “It feels much longer than four years ago…”

 

“It’s that long?”  It was Alex’s turn to frown as she thought her way back through the various tours and postings that had happened between then and now, not to mention the odd explosion.  “I suppose it must be.”

 

“I started it when I returned from Bastion, just after you’d started your first tour…”

 

“Just after you’d been made Colonel,” reminding Alex gently, taking care to not stop her gentle stroking, knowing the promotion and subsequent touring had not been well received by Marcus.

 

“Yes.  I didn’t mind it at first - it was interesting, doing the inspection tours… we went to all sorts of places, civilian and military.”  Bernie remembered some of the facilities they’d toured, her and a couple of other medical personnel from the Royal Navy as it happened, as well as a senior nursing officer from the Royal Air Force.  “I wasn’t a great sailor…”  In fact, the thought of operating at sea still made her feel a little bit queasy, even now.  There was a reason she hadn’t joined the Navy… but it was weird, as operating in a helicopter or aircraft wasn’t anything like as disconcerting to think about.  “But I’m not a very good administrator…”  She’d hated being stuck as she saw it, at Aldershot, trying to negotiate the report through various committees and review groups.  “But Peter’s done an alright job of it.”

 

“I can’t believe you told him you’d done the difficult bit…” teased Alex, recalling Bernie’s near perfect line-by-line recounting of her conversation with their former close colleague.  “..actually, I can believe you would tell him that…”

 

“What?”  Bernie twisted her head round so she could properly look at Alex, dislodging her lover’s hand from her neck in the process.  “It’s true…”  She couldn’t quite find the words to explain why he would have struggled to work his way through the various different facilities they’d been shown and spent time in, trying to extract what was and wasn’t working and what would and wouldn’t be useful for inclusion in their various reports and suggestions.  “...but he writes a very good report….”  Remembering something else, that Serena had said the night they’d brought Ro back to Holby by helicopter, Bernie shrugged, “...not quite as good as his research paper write ups, but not bad.”  He’d done a rather good job of writing up the various improvised procedures and innovations that they’d developed over the years as the Bastion field hospital developed and became the world leading trauma centre it had latterly been renowned for.

 

“He’s methodical about thinking on his feet…” Alex had not done as many shifts and operations with Peter Parker as she had with Bernie, but she’d done enough to be able to work out what ‘type’ of surgeon he was.  She could picture him, stood in theatre, sizing up the patient from head to toe, considering every injury and trauma in turn to decide what might be the best solution and then, from all of that, picking his surgical course of action.  It happened very quickly, so quickly it had taken Alex a good few surgeries to spot it, but watch him closely and you saw him work his way through some sort of checklist that guided him through the wealth of possible options at his disposal. “...you’re…”  Instinctive wasn’t the right word as, to Alex’s mind, it implied there was a lack of caution or preparation in Bernie’s approach which wasn’t what she meant.  “...never not seeing the whole patient, even when you’re focussed on an incision…”

 

“Are you saying I have a wandering eye?” teased Bernie, appreciating the huge compliment Alex was paying her but also picking up on the increasingly sombre tone of the conversation which wasn’t what she’d intended, not right now at least.

 

“More like highly developed peripheral vision…”  Alex moved her hand from behind Bernie’s head and started to run her fingers through the almost too long fringe that was starting to tumble into Bernie’s eyes again.  “...for which I’m extremely grateful…” she tapped Bernie on the nose before resuming her fringe rearranging.  “...and no longer quite so frustrated about…”  

 

Alex let her thoughts drift, as Bernie’s did, to various stolen moments behind tents and trucks when, once Bernie had overcome her initial terror about being ‘caught’ in a compromising position with Alex, she’d discovered that the same sixth sense that told her something was not quite right with a part of her patient just beyond her immediate surgical field, also told her when was and wasn’t a good moment to linger with that kiss or touch…

 

“I was terrified by it...”

 

“Oh?” Alex willed herself to keep her fingers moving, knowing from experience that if she froze, Bernie would clam up and it would take days to pry what ‘it’ was from the surgeon again.

 

“Loving you, here...now...then...”  Bernie reached up and caught hold of Alex’s hand, pulling it down to her lips so she could kiss it.  “In fact…”  Shifting around, without letting go of Alex’s hand, Bernie moved so she was kneeling next to Alex, able to look her straight in the eye.  “...that’s the easy part...”  Feeling suddenly foolish, Bernie looked down at their joined hands.

 

“What’s the hard part Bern?” asked Alex as she pulled herself into a more conventional, upright position, her feet dropping silently to the floor next to Bernie’s knees.  “Saying it out loud doesn’t mean it has to happen, just means we both know what the risk is…” It was a phrase Bernie had used, right before operations, time and time again when she’d picked up on Alex’s nervousness about a patient, before they’d become used to each other, found their shared wavelength.  Bernie had been right - just because Alex said out loud what her worry was didn’t mean that it was going to happen to the patient...and Alex was now certain that the same would hold now.

 

“Trying to imagine not being able to love you…” Bernie felt the dampness gathering in her eyes and tried to sniff it away, but Alex knew her too well.

 

“You said there were five possible postings for you…”

 

“And discharge…” added Bernie, wanting to be complete.  “I could resign my commission, stay in Holby or wherever you wanted to work…”  She sniffed again, trying not to let the dampness turn into tears as she finally looked up at Alex.  “...my bedside manner’s improved apparently, almost safe to let loose on civilians…” she joked, managing to crack just enough of a smile to raise a ghost on Alex’s face too.  “Ronnie’s accepted the job in London, and Charlie’s starting her graduate scheme there too…”  It had been one of the more challenging conversations, with Ronnie elected as his sister’s spokesperson as well as his own, but Bernie had, in typical Bernie fashion, beaten them to the punch by explaining how she’d learned to tolerate life in Holby but had never felt it was her ‘home’, with that being the villages in Lincolnshire that her father had been the vicar of over the years.  As far as she was concerned, she wanted Ronnie and Charlie to live where they thought they could live their best lives and, if she had a place in that life (and by her she’d gone on fairly quickly to say she meant Alex and her which, fortunately, had been what Ronnie and Charlie had been hoping too) then she’d find a way to visit them and be a part of it, wherever and whatever that might be.  “...and I can get to London from pretty much anywhere…”

 

Smiling, Alex put her finger on Bernie’s lips, stopping Bernie’s version of a ramble although like everything else she did it came with a certain directness and economy of words.

 

“If discharge was the way forward, you’d have already done it,” said Alex matter-of-factly, not begrudging Bernie for wanting to stay in the Army in the slightest - she’d taken her decision to transfer to the Reserves without hesitation, knowing that everything that appealed to her about it was also what didn’t appeal to Bernie.  “So that’s not going to happen…” She softened her words by kissing Bernie’s furrowed forehead.  “...so I still get to see you in uniform…”  That, she was relieved to see, earned her a smirk from Bernie, who had come to understand that free from the constraints of the chain of command, Alex really did like her in uniform...a sentiment that Bernie was prepared to admit she also shared: there was something about khaki that did really suit her lover...who was talking again, prompting Bernie to try and concentrate.

 

“.. definitely hate?”

 

Bernie had no idea what the question had been about, nor did she have the confidence to make an educated guess.

 

“Which uniform?”  Alex’s smirk confirmed that she knew what was causing Bernie’s silence - she’d completely missed the question while she’d been thinking about Alex in uniform.

 

“Eights or Fourteen...”  Bernie knew better than to pretend otherwise, and also knew that Alex already knew the answer - whereas Alex did quite like to see Bernie in the full buttons and braid (and undrawn sword, as Jason had correctly worked out) of the Army Service Dress Uniform known as ‘Number Twos’ as well as the more everyday ‘working’ uniforms that Bernie mentioned, Bernie was nice and straightforward: khaki or the camouflage patterned trousers with either the more formal shirt they wore in Barracks as part of the ‘Number 14’ uniform or the t-shirt and camouflage jacket or shirt that made up the Combat Dress or ‘Number Eights’ uniform they’d effectively lived in at Bastion, although they did mix the odd scrub shirt in amongst the camouflage.  “...with sleeves rolled up.”  There was something unbecoming about the uniform short sleeved shirt, with them either being horribly tight or looking like they’d been designed to accommodate a bicep the size of a phone book.  “Or scrubs…” Bernie knew she was blushing but couldn’t care less - she loved how Alex looked in any and all variants of her ‘professional uniform’, be it medical or military.  “...dark blue if I can pick…”

 

“I’d never have guessed…” teased Alex, feeling her own cheeks flame as she remembered their moment in the AAU locker room earlier, right before she’d told Bernie about Peter Parker’s visit.  “...so now you’re concentrating…” She tapped Bernie’s knuckles with her fingers, as if to emphasise that the here and now was where Bernie’s concentration should be focussed.  “...which of the five are the three you definitely hate the idea of?”

 

“How do you know it’s three?”  Bernie laughed when she saw Alex’s look...which clearly suggested Bernie had obviously not been paying attention for the last few minutes.  “Sorry, I’m predictable…”  Grinning with lingering amusement, Bernie recalled the list of five options she’d glanced at in the coffee shop, remembering the strong initial instincts she’d had on reading them.  “Aldershot, Whitehall and Cyprus…”  Given her reluctance to be too far away from an operating theatre, her not fancying a posting to Regimental HQ at Aldershot or the MoD in Whitehall, Central London, were obvious and easily guessable.  Her reasoning for Cyprus on the other hand, was a little more superficial.

 

“HQ and the MoD are obvious, and Cyprus makes sense because you’ve had enough sun block for one lifetime…” summarised Alex promptly, not at all surprised.   Bernie had, like many of them, learned to be diligent about applying the sunscreen during the intense heat of the Afghan summer...and, when added to her experiences in the Gulf and Africa before that, had decided she was probably due a more temperate or even chilly climate...especially if the Army was going to continue to not really understand the importance of air conditioning.  

 

“Pretty much…”  Bernie started to chew on her lower lip - that only left two options left from the short list Peter had given her, once Alex had dismissed the idea of fully embracing civilian life, and all Bernie knew was that she’d be asking a lot of Alex with either of them…

 

“Bern?”

 

“Hmm?”  Realising she’d been disappearing into her own thoughts again, Bernie tried to focus her attention solely on Alex again, although she was starting to notice her shift catching up on her as well, with a yawn catching her off guard.

 

“Do you think the promise of penguins would be enough to tempt Ronnie and Charlie to visit us in the Falklands?”

 

“Probably, especially if we were paying…”  Bernie had answered Alex’s question without really registering the significance of what the question meant.  “...wait… what did you just say?”

 

“The options, that Peter offered you…”  Alex could feel her face getting warm again, not from blushing this time, but from the effort of trying not to grin too broadly as she finally allowed herself to verbalise what she’d been thinking about ever since she’d scanned the second file that Peter had given Bernie back at Holby, while she waited for Bernie to finish her shift.  “He said that two and four had opportunities that would mean I could also go?”  She’d found the file on Bernie’s desk, with a post-it note on the front of it, in Fletch’s distinctive scrawl, addressed to her….

 

_ From Bernie to Alex, via Fletch. _

_ Perfect Peter dropped this off, have a read.  Two and Four want you too. _

 

“Yes...and the posting to the Falklands to oversee South Atlantic Medical and complete a restructuring of the tri-service medical support was option four on the list…”  It was, without a doubt, the one that had appealed to Bernie the most, with it being the right mix of autonomy, authority and variety and meant she’d still be operating and testing her skills, with the remoteness of the location presenting new challenges and opportunities, not least with how the three services worked with each other, and with the civilian medical infrastructure which seemingly, Alex could be a part of.  “You really want to go to the Falklands?”

 

“I really want to go to the Falklands with you…”  Alex leaned forwards and kissed Bernie softly on the lips, feeling the beginning of a smile forming for Bernie.  “...but only if there are penguins…” she teased, leaning in for another kiss…

 

“I’ll see what I can do…”  promised Bernie, before returning Alex’s kisses with ones of her own, ones that quickly escalated until soon all thoughts of penguins and verbal teasing were forgotten as instead, tongues and fingers began to dance and tease… there would be much paperwork, administration and other bits and pieces to tackle in the coming weeks and months to make this instinctive decision that felt so right for both of them become their new reality….and it wouldn’t all be smooth and seamless in its planning either.  But that was all ahead of them, part of the necessary hoops and hurdles that they’d jump through and clear as they set about putting this plan in motion, a plan that had, in many ways, started one rainy Aldershot day some four years earlier when newly promoted Lieutenant-Colonel Berenice Wolfe, recently returned from Afghanistan had started her next role for the RAMC...and yet, in many other ways, it was a plan that could only start now, in this moment...a Major and her Captain, an anaesthetist and her surgeon…. Bernie and Alex, together….

 

...and a penguin or two...


End file.
